Chapter 15 #2
Later, dry and dressed, stretching my arms up before promptly pulling my shirt down again when a breeze from the parted window kissed my belly, I let my slippers shuffle through the kitchen without lifting my feet.
I took out the croissant maker from the cupboard, planning on baking at least forty for my perpetually ravenous werewolf friends.
I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts, looking for Lucien’s.
No, I wasn’t about to ghost him just because he was some short, greasy-haired weirdo.
I didn’t judge people based on their shampoo loyalty.
Lucien made me laugh so hard yesterday, I’d even cried in the middle of class.
Of course, my pack members had immediately reported it to my father, who had then mind-linked me in a panic asking who needed to die.
And maybe all these Lucien attributes could even help me get over this little crush.
Because, fine, I was almost fond of him. Fond-jacent.
The call connected after several rings.
“Hello, Bunny Doc.” His voice drifted to me, all raspy and grumpy, like a sexy bear woken too early from hibernation.
“Whoa, you sound like a grizzly. Maybe take a shower and wash your hair. You know, cold water works wonders,” I joked—with some honesty.
“What?” he mumbled.
“Nothing! Anyway, rough night, Rudy?” I spread butter on a blue metal container.
He groaned. “How long are you gonna keep calling me that emasculating name? I told you my real one, didn’t I?”
I rolled my eyes. What was with guys nowadays and their need to show their virility all the time? Apparently, Rudy was one of those I’m tough, I’m manly, I growl, red meat, grr, pff types.
“You did. And I don’t care. Rudolph is sticking.” I smiled at myself.
“You’re basically calling me prey.”
“Prey?”
“I ate a reindeer once.”
I paused. “Okay… What’s gotten into your panties this morning?”
Some shuffling on his end, like he was rolling around in his sheets.
“I’m not wearing panties, Bunny Doc,” he said with a yawn. “I sleep naked.” His tone dropped an octave, but I could hear the smile. “Want a pic?”
I snorted, though it would be nice to see his face. I pictured him as one of those annoying pixies that jumps out at travelers in fiction books. And now the pixie has oily hair. And maybe wax balls in his ear canals.
“No, thanks. I’m good,” I settled.
His husky chuckle suggested that he already knew what my answer would be.
His hair can’t be greasy with a laugh like that!
We never talked about seeing each other in person or even sharing photos, too busy arguing or living our lives.
And honestly? It was probably for the best. I almost asked if he knew a certain Killian, then decided otherwise.
Maybe Rudy had never proposed to meet up in real life because, no matter what he bragged, he was insecure about his looks.
If he knew I’d met someone from his pack, he might have started to suspect I knew what he looked like.
The kitchen door swung open. A grinning Tiziano sauntered in, dropping kisses on both my cheeks like a mafia uncle. His pupils dilated as they locked onto the croissants. Wolf mode: activated.
“Who’s that?” he mouthed, gesturing to my phone.
“Lucien,” I mouthed back.
He rolled his eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck behind his head forever. Lucien did take his revenge for our prank…but only on Tiziano.
Somehow, he had managed to find his full name and concocted something remarkably similar to what Tiziano did: Lucien signed him up for a dating site…
for women over seventy. Complete with an adorable bio.
Tiziano nearly had a stroke when the first bouquet arrived.
He’d since changed his number, but we were still getting mail for him.
And pictures. And proposals for him to be a gigolo.
With zero warning, Tiziano yanked out my earbuds and hit the speaker. “Hello there, walking case of herpes!”
Lucien was silent for three seconds.
“Tatiano, I presume? How are the grandmas?” he cooed. “Keeping your little cock busy?”
I blushed. This man had no boundaries.
Tiziano choked on a croissant. “They are not okay after I had to break their hearts,” he snapped. “How are your masters? Find anyone who can stand your ugliness and terrible attitude?”
Another croissant vanished into his mouth. A third one followed with the same destiny, and
I fired a kitchen cloth at him to shoo him away before he could go full locust.
“Hey! I’m just testing them.” He rubbed his thigh where the cloth had snapped him and tried to look hurt.
“Moody much today, shitface? Eat a lemon tree for breakfast, or is sour your whole personality?” Lucien paused, then added in a fake scolding tone, “Yvaine. You shouldn’t associate with negative people like him.”
Tiziano growled, crumbs flying all around.
I patted his shoulder, though I couldn’t hide my smile.
“Shut up! I don’t like you!” he barked. “Yvaine, stop talking to this bug.”
“The feeling’s mutual, grandma slayer.”
I interrupted their volley of insults by jabbing my elbow onto Tiziano’s ribs. “Go feed Zeus, or no more croissants for you.”
He didn’t budge. Apparently, the croissants were not motivating enough. I supposed Z would be fasting.
“I heard you only slay your hygiene.”
I jumped in again. “Rudy, lemons are healthy! There’s nothing wrong with having a citrus breakfast.” I wasn’t just stalling—I was educating.
“In fact, lemons are packed with vitamin C and soluble fiber that help with weight loss and lower your risk of heart disease, anemia…basically everything except being irritating on speaker.”
Tiziano had already geared up for the next punch. “So you should drink lemon juice by the bucket! With your toxic karma, I’m sure you’re already halfway to a heart attack, but the most probable issue is brain loss.”
Tiziano really leaned into the word loss.
Rudolph chuckled, not at all offended. “I forgot all of you nerds are doctors! Know any hot nurses down there?”
“I forgot you’re chauvinistic,” I retorted, brows furrowed.
“Bet he’s got zero girls, Ivy. Who’d want this roach?”
“Ivy doesn’t think I’m a roach. And she needs me. Her friends are all stiff freaks.”
Glancing at the phone with that too-sweet smile, completely changing the subject, Tiziano cooed, “What time is your date tonight, Yvaine?”
I rolled my eyes, understanding what he was doing. “Tizzy, Rudy and I are just friends. He dates girls. Or, at least, he hangs out with them.”
The voice that came from the phone was quieter. Just a little different. “You have a date?”
“He’s my non-mate with benefits,” I said, avoiding Tiziano’s smug face.
“Several benefits.” He poked my ribs. “And he’s our tutor. Anatomy lessons are their thing, roach.”
“Tutor?”
Is Rudolph just repeating things now?
“Yeah, you know.” Tiziano was gleaming now. “Intelligent, hot, academically threatening? Plays defense on the wereball team and knows what a shower is. And you, Rudy? Even make the second team? Or are you just a benchwarmer?”
“Oh really? And where was this academically threatening hero last time when we kicked the Comets’ balls back to space?”
Here we go again. Was there anything that could dent Lucien even in the slightest?
“He was there, and he played well. Tizzy, Zeus is waiting,” I cut in.
Tiziano just continued, “And if that Masturbator hadn’t played like the cheating troll he is, we would have crushed you. Plus, Sillas, the hero’s name, blocked your quarterback’s cheating butt three times. Three!”
There was a pause. A long one. For a second, I thought maybe Lucien was hurt. Or offended.
“Ahh, sore losers are the loudest. Tizzy, own the ass-kicking, even if we made you eunuchs.”
I thought wrong.
Tiziano’s entire posture shifted. Imaginary steam curled out of his red ears.
“Okay! Enough, you two. You, go sit in the living room if you want a cappuccino!”
Tiziano grinned at me before staring back at the phone with hate-filled eyes and saying with mock sweetness, “Well, Lucy, it was a displeasure to e-meet you.”
This time, Lucien didn’t laugh. He let out a growl…and not the playful, flirty kind. This one had teeth in it, and that was new. Lucien had taken ten times worse and just laughed it off. So, why now?
Was it the Lucy nickname?
Tiziano narrowed his eyes. Something in Lucien’s snarl had struck a weird chord with him.
“Wait. Who exactly did you say you were, Lucien?”
The drama barometer in the room spiked, his suspicion increased—which was just when the Comets’ captain chose to make his entrance, in all his glory.
Red hair damp and skin dewy, a few stray droplets clinging to his jaw, Lachlan was ready for the photoshoot he would never want to take.
“Hi, favorite twin,” I said with a grin, ignoring Tiziano as he was now full-on glaring at my phone like he was trying to cast a curse through it.
“Hi, sis.” Lachlan bent to kiss my cheek with a loud mwah. Nodding at Tiziano with his chin, who was still growling at my phone, he asked, “What’s up with him?”
The phone that had been quiet for too long, considering who was on the line.
“He and Lucien aren’t besties,” I explained as Lachlan raised a brow and peeked at my phone.
“Hello, Lucien!” Lachlan boomed, startling me. “Ah, tell your loser quarterback that I’ll be at the next game, so he can start writing a good medical excuse letter! He’s gonna need one.”
Lachlan didn’t wait for a reply. He swiped a cappuccino, as many croissants as he could grab in his big hand, and strutted off to the couch to sit next to Amaia.
She had somehow materialized unnoticed and was fully locked into her laptop.
Thankfully, Lachlan had also managed to drag Tiziano with him.
My neighbors started showing up, so I slipped my earbuds back in.
“Sorry about that, Rudy. That was my brother,” I explained as I laid out a second army of croissants, ready to be baked.
“Who’s your brother?” He’d gone from sassmaster to frostbite in under a second.